


Miscommunications

by orphan_account



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Car travel, Cross-Country - Freeform, Crying, Cuddling, Eiffel Tower, Europe, Explosives, Flower Language, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and more fluff, France - Freeform, Guns, Gunshots, Homerotic bandaging of wounds, Hugs, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Mild Blood, Mild Injury, NOT interrupted by someone this time, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, Okay well maybe a teeny tiny bit of naughty thoughts, Pining, Roses, Seriously this shit is all fluff no smut, Sleeping Together, The inherant romance of sleeping with someone and not expreriencing usual nightmares, as a treat, c4, cuts and bruises, death scare, post-MGS2, pre-MGS4, protective snake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ‘Is that what love feels like?’ He asks himself, heart pounding, and head spinning. And he reasons (as much as anyone could, feeling the way he is right now) it must be. For he hadn’t noticed just how bad his heart aches for Hal, until the ache had just now been filled.-- -- --A short, rambling fic about Solid Snake and Otacon being hoplessly in love while simultaneously both not knowing how to express it and not knowing what love is 'supposed to feel like', all wrapped up with a 'tactical espionage action' bow. There's 'happy-because-im-loved' crying, and 'scared-of-losing-you' crying, and. Really these boys are just hopeless. Enjoy!editing by Sam and Jack- thank you guys! <3
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all my friends who beta'd for putting up with me for the 5000 years it took to write this stupid fic :') You know who you are and I appreciate you bastards greatly<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

David Pliskin walks with confidence only matched by some Olympic gymnasts along one of the uncountable steel beams that make up the Eiffel Tower. Moonlight gleams across the metal and the city itself, and everywhere he looks, flecks of starlight dot the sky. He could stand it to be a little warmer, he thinks, leaping deftly in the air to catch a beam high above him, proceeding to heft himself with little effort on top of it. Yeah, better weather would be nice, but all in all, it’s a gorgeous evening for a mission. Too bad this one’s rather impromptu and will most likely be wrapped up in a matter of mere minutes once he reaches the top of this thing. It won’t be long now. And Snake figures that just this once, he has a little bit of time to stop for the most fleeting of moments, and relax. So he does.

Snake pauses on a steel beam a few levels below the top lookout deck, standing and facing the moon, overlooking a sizable chunk of Paris. He takes a last, long drag of the cigarette that’s been absently burning between his lips for the last twenty minutes, using it up and flicking the end off into the midnight breeze. He takes in the beauty of the sparkling city. And suddenly, so passing and casual that he almost doesn’t register it, a thought enters his mind.

‘ _I wish Hal were here next to me to see this._ ’

David blinks, head shooting up, his breath having frozen mid-exhale as he processes this impression. He tightens his grip on a vertical beam, becoming aware of his decreased focus. ‘ _What?_ ’ He asks himself. His own mind doesn’t honor his request to repeat itself and he’s left with only the vague outline of the thought. The resolve of his stance weakens as his heels begin to teeter on the narrow platform. Smoothly, he drops to a crouch on his haunches, trying to dismiss the odd expression as quickly and logically as possible to get back to the task at hand. ‘ _Otacon would be terrified of being here. He’d most likely scream and lose his balance._ ’ After a few moments Snake huffs half-amusedly at his conclusion and resumes his ascent to the top floor, shaking off his distraction.

It’s colder and windier up here than it was even twenty feet ago. It’s times like these that Snake’s glad for all these extra layers of stealth-wear under and over his suit. The ancient lattice of rusty metal creaks and clinks ever so quietly under his boot heels as he arrives at the lookout deck. He’s staring at the back of some cocky self-proclaimed villain clad in black, currently trying to fasten explosives to the frame of the Eiffel Tower’s elevator door. “Those fools. Soon they’ll all know my name.” He speaks in French excitedly. Sounds like a kid, a teenager or at least a young adult. Probably the quiet type, bullied for eclectic interests or shy tendencies. Pliskin can clearly see the amateurly constructed device in the boy’s back pocket. He silently shakes his head. ‘ _What a shame. If only he’d used his smarts for better things._ ’

Otacon had told him he could make the call as for what to do with this guy. As long as the top doesn’t get blown off the Eiffel Tower tonight, both of them will be satisfied. And Snake doesn’t feel like killing a child. Much less trouble with the police if he just gives him to them. Gracefully stealthy and dead silent, but nevertheless nonchalant, Snake approaches the would-be bomber.

“Yes! Last one done. I’ll be so famous, all the boys will _have_ to stop bullying me when they see this!” The teen says, dusting off his hands and bouncing on his toes with a slight disconcerting eagerness. The boy turns around but Snake is unphased. “Wha-- W-who are you?” He clips in fearful French. As Snake predicted, it’s not his first thought to reach for the detonator. Instead, he pulls out a pocket knife, barely even sharp, and lunges at Snake, swinging wildly as soon as he’s within striking distance. It’s like breathing for Solid to dodge the frightened boy’s attacks, quickly ducking and sweeping a leg under both his ankles. The kid falls to the floor with a yelp, groaning as he lands on his face.

‘ _Refreshing to have some easy work, for a change._ ’ Snake thinks with dark amusement as he cuffs the teenager’s wrists behind him and connects them to his legs. Swiping the detonator from him, Snake opens the elevator, pushes him inside with the toe of his boot, and closes the door. The police will surely be waiting for him at the bottom, thanks to a helpful anonymous tip call. Snake then fleeces the building of four explosives, bundling them together and throwing them far and high into the air and triggering them at the peak of their trajectory. A soft shockwave hits David from the front. He hears people screaming and rushing on the ground. Everyone within a mile radius probably heard the blast and are now in a buzz and panic. No doubt, a French officer will soon be on their way to investigate the top floor. But as Snake catches a sight of the whole sky, pitch black and dotted by twinkling stars and a large, full moon, the passing thought of earlier re-emerges, and states itself more clearly.

_‘I wish Hal could be here with me right now. I wish I could show him this incredible view._ ’

He’s now able to firmly grasp the impression in his mind and he stops dead in his tracks. Not even a thought, just a simple but potent desire. It’s so out of the blue, Snake isn’t even sure _what_ to think about it. His first response on pure logical instinct, is _‘If I had a camera, I’d take a picture for him instead._ ’

Something doesn’t feel right, in his gut and in his head. And this feeling is vaguely familiar, like may he’s felt it before. Perhaps, many times. But Pliskin hears the elevator clank and ding in the back of his mind, snaps back to the present, and makes himself disappear from the top deck of the tower before the elevator doors have even opened.

* * *

Dave slides back into the middle-class hotel room two hours later, having donned civilian clothes and stuffed his gear in a backpack which he drops as soon as the door is closed. He expects to be met with the sound of muffled but squeaky Japanese voices coming from the other room, but he isn’t. And the lights in the entryway are on. Very small differences in the room, but very odd all the same. He would be worried for Hal’s safety, if it weren’t for the fact that he can see him in the other room. He’s folded in on himself, with his arms around his legs and his chin on his knees in the computer chair. His brows are knit with deep worry, his expression nervous at the very leasts as he stares into his computer screen. The pale green light is the only thing illuminating him and bathes him in a sickly glow that reveals the bags under his eyes.

Hal glances to the side by chance and gasps, practically leaping to a stand. “David!” He exclaims, sounding relieved, but still looking concerned through his glasses. Dave’s brows lift a bit in surprise.

“...Hi.” He responds, at a loss.

Hal glances him up and down, his expression unchanged. “..Sweater and khakis?”

“Too many police out after I took care of the teenager. Couldn’t find a way back stealthily, so I changed to blend with the crowd.”

“W-what happened to you knocking and coming in through the window?”

“Cops in the alleyway. Would’a seen me.”

Hal doesn’t seem satisfied. “And what happened to calling me once you were done?” His tone escalates. “People were everywhere, I didn’t get the chance.” Dave replies. He realizes now that Hal is slowly approaching him.

“Well, did the kid hurt you?”

“‘Course not, he had no experience.” Snake replies, puzzled.

“Are you alright otherwise then?”

Pliskin furrows his brow. “Hal, I’m fine. What are you panicking for?”

Otacon’s hands clench into fists and his small, lithe frame turns sharp and aggressive. “How can you expect me _not_ to panic and freak out after I hear an explosion followed by complete silence from you?!”

‘ _...Oh._ ’ Snake loses his attitude after he realises the errors he’s made. His face goes blank and he opens his mouth to say something, but his mind can’t conjure a meaningful sentence. Hal sees his change. “Th-that’s what I thought,” he replies, now trying to hide the tension in his voice. Hal returns to his chair and leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose before adjusting his glasses. “You’ve gotta understand, I.. You tell me you’ll codec me when you’ve taken care of things and are heading back, and then I hear an explosion, and my machines tell me it originated from the Eiffel Tower, and I don’t hear from you for hours, I..” Hal lifts his glasses as he covers his eyes with a hand. He swallows.

“It seemed like there was a real possibility that you had been compromised, or, just… Dead.” The man’s voice is somewhere between guarded and distressed. Snake can see his jaw clenched tight, and his own stomach twists a little in remorse. He stays silent and Hal continues. “I was starting to try and come to terms with the fact that you might not come back. So.. If you were fine this whole time… Why the hell did it take you so long to get back?” His glasses are crooked and hang off his nose as he asks, looking David in the eyes when he moves into the doorway.

Dave sighs, letting a long pause fill the space. “After the cops found out the kid's plan, they were swarming everywhere below me. Civilians flooded the plaza as soon as the bombs went off. It was chaos out there - took me ages to figure out how to get to the ground unseen.” Snake explains.

Hal silently urges him to continue.

“I had to settle on a rooftop to change my clothes, so I wouldn’t look out of place in the crowd. I also had to stick around and act like the people for long enough that the cops wouldn’t get suspicious. Couldn’t walk away too soon or they might’ve tried to stop me.”

Emmerich seems slightly more satisfied with this information, but Dave has more to say. His brow furrows apologetically and Hal observes a new softness in his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t call, I swear. I would’ve if I had the chance. If I had called and said anything about the mission, there was a strong possibility that several people would overhear me and alert the police about my potential involvement, and you and I both know how messy something like that would’ve gotten.”

* * *

Hal breaks the stare and expects this to be the end of the discussion. But Pliskin props himself on one knee in front of him and reclaims his gaze.

“So, I’m sorry, Emmerich. Really… I am. I had to pay the price of your peace of mind for the safety of the mission. And I didn’t enjoy that any more than you did. I knew you’d worry, but I.. I didn’t think you would worry _this_ much.”

From the pale, fuzzy glow Hal’s computer monitor casts on Snake’s face, Hal can’t be 100% certain… But it looks as if his chiseled cheeks are just the faintest shade of pink. Hal’s eyes are wider than he’d like to admit at this heartfelt repentance, and a light blush spreads over his face that he hopes Dave doesn’t notice.

“..I.. Forgive you.” Emmerich blurts out, not sounding anywhere near as self-righteous as the statement implies. Dave looks somewhat surprised, but slowly begins to smile. He puts his hand over Hal’s on the arm of the chair. “Thank you.” He says, with an appreciation and sincerity in his voice that Hal doesn’t think he’s ever quite heard from the man before.

Before he realizes it, the moment’s over. Hal is left somewhat stunned as David stands and clears his throat. “I’ll.. Leave you be. Need a hot shower after all that cold air, anyway.” He strolls back out of Otacon’s room. “U-uh, yeah,” He calls out after Pliskin, once he catches up with the moment and his heart stops skipping beats.

* * *

Hal lays in bed, but he’s not trying to sleep. His laptop is playing Sailor Moon on his chest, but he’s not really paying attention. He’s got his arms crossed behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, thinking about the previous few hours. For a while, he thought David might not have been coming back. He was even too afraid to try and triangulate his location, for fear of what he might find out. He had already begun running through what to do if David really _didn’t_ return. Solid Snake’s what makes them a team. Without him… What would Otacon do? What _could_ he do?

‘ _The look on his face when he apologized to me.. The sound of his voice…_ ’ Hal thinks. The image is crystal clear in his head. Pliskin’s face, earnest and remorseful, his tone sincere and contrite. The feel of his hand, calloused and only starting to warm up after the cold. It made Hal unreasonably flushed.

‘ _And was Snake… Blushing? Surely he wasn’t..?_ ’

Hal sighs and glances at the clock. Only 1 a.m.. If this is what he’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night, it’s going to be a long one. Hal catches a glimpse of the masked tuxedo in an episode of Sailor Moon, coming in and driving out the villain, swooping Usagi away in his arms. Hal blushes. ‘ _Dave’s kinda like my masked tuxedo…_ ’ He admits to himself, twisting the pillow case in his hand as he thinks about him. ‘ _Whenever I’m in trouble, whenever it seems like all hope is lost.. He’s always there to save me from it. I wish he would carry me like that sometime…_ ’

‘ _..._ ’

‘ _He would snap all my anime figures in half if he knew how I thought about him..’_ Hal palms his face, embarrassed at himself.

A little sliver of star-dotted sky is visible from Hal’s bedroom window. He studies it absently. ‘ _Still. It was nice to hear what he was thinking. And to hear him apologize that way. Just.. to hear his voice for that long._ ’ Hal’s heart fluttered, thinking of the low, deep, gravelly sound.

Little did he know, David was also wide awake in the other room, thinking just as deeply about the man in the other bed as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Snake?” Otacon buzzes in from the codec, as Dave handily takes care of a swarm of security guards in a shady facility.

“Yes, Otacon?” Snake replies rather testily, as he cracks the butt of his pistol over the head of a dull-witted goon.

“Did you ever learn about flower language, by chance?” Otacon continues.

“Flower language? Otacon, is this _really_ the time? I don’t exactly see the relevance.” Snake sighs, as he nonchalantly roundhouse kicks some poor fellow to the ground, writhing in pain.

Only a few days ago they had been in Paris, and Hal was nearly sure Dave had died. As a peace offering the following morning, David agreed to let Hal contact him and get a confirmation of survival whenever he wanted during the next mission, for peace of mind. The caveat being that whenever Snake _wasn't_ in a position where it would be safe for him to talk, he could clack his teeth twice to let Hal know it was time for silence.

It's been working pretty well,so far. Or at least, Hal continually brings up different points of small talk and random subjects, and Dave hasn’t had the need to shut him up yet. But really, if he’s being honest with himself, it’s kind of nice to hear Hal talking in his ear so much, especially when it’s not just about mission objectives.

The sound of him droning on about the latest research into vocaloid technology - whatever that is - or complaining about an underperforming piece of machinery actually seems to help Snake focus a little bit, and keep him calm in the heat of the moment. He may sigh and gripe about being pulled into discussions about so many topics, but it allows him to not overthink tactical moves and simplify strategy for eliminating threats.

“It _is_ relevant, snake,” Otacon huffs. “You remember how I told you this guy has a knack for being really symbolic and using flowers to designate different meanings and purposes?”

“Yeah.” Snake replies, knocking out a guard with one swift punch.

“Well, you should be starting to notice by now the prevalence of flowers in vases and pictures throughout his base.”

“I have, actually.”

“Good. It’s very important to the mission that you pay attention to the colors and types of flowers you observe when you find the boss’s computer terminal. I’ve been speaking with some guys who’ve tried hacking this stuff before, and they say that if you don’t pick up the exact file first try, your system _and_ storage gets bricked.”

“I dunno what that means, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Snake replies, smiling to himself and shaking his head as he ducks behind a corner to avoid gunfire.

A pair of shots hit the wall across from him and he waits patiently for the guards to come his way before calmly knocking them both out. “Only a few more floors until you reach the terminal! Great job, Snake!” Otacon sing-songs through the codec, clearly trying to encourage Dave in that nerdy way of his. “Yeah, yeah,” Dave sighs, feigning annoyance. “Just would’a been been nice if they hadn’t sealed off the elevator as soon as I got here…”

It takes him another half hour to fell the rest of the goons and practically saunter up three floors of the building. The flower symbolism becomes especially prevalent. Flowers in paintings, in vases, in jars, and especially on lapels. It tiptoes the line between weird or obsessive, and effective team unification.

“Wow, okay Snake.. You’re here. Time to start looking for that computer. Maybe looks for a special flower that’s out of place, or something that doesn’t quite fit.”

“That’s very specific,” Snake scoffs.

“Well,” Otacon sighs. “Okay, okay. Let’s think about this more cryptically…”

Snake steps deftly around the groaning bodies of the security staff as he scans every wall and flower for any clue as to what he might be looking for. “You were saying something about flower language..?” He brings up quietly.

“Ah, right. Well, in the 19th and early 20th century, it was a common practice to give bouquets of flowers, where each flower was designated a meaning. Tulips meant grace and rebirth, sunflowers meant loyalty and longevity, et cetera.”

“Right.” And how do you relate this with where Kepler’s hiding the nuclear weapon plans?” snake asks.

“Well, considering this guy’s known for being eccentric in his obsession with flowers, and his constant mention of their symbolism during press conferences in the weapons community, I figured this explanation was as plain as day. I mean, some even call him the “Black Rose Arms Dealer”, because he puts specific combinations of flowers on the bodies of his deceased targets, all of them including a Black Rose.”

“The Black Rose symbolizing,”

“Death. You got it. They say it’s presented as an explanation for why they were killed.” Otacon theorizes.

“Hm.” Snake grunts in acknowledgement. “...So, did you just know all this already, or..?”

Hal’s voice suddenly turns bashful. “Uh.. I knew a little bit before this, but when I started suspecting Kepler’s flower obsession, I learned a lot more.”

Dave smiles. “Nerd.” He says.

“Jock,” Replies Hal.

Pliskin hears the grin in his tone and imagines his face, bathed in green light from his computer screen, but his cheeks no less evidently rosy pink.

Snake’s been imagining him a lot now, and seeing his face when he sits inside his own head to think for a while. He always looks happy, always smiling. Trying to think about how Hal looked two weeks ago, makes Snake feel things, deep in his heart, which hurt. Hal’s smile does the opposite. And as he thinks about this,He now very much wants to make Hal laugh.

“Well, opposites attract. We make a perfect couple, like that.” Says Snake in fun, and Otacon chuckles heartily. The sound warms David’s whole body, and he opens a door which he notices has a flower on the front which doesn’t quite match the color of the others, and is missing one petal.

He smiles as inside the room is a small bank of servers - or at least, he thinks that what Hal calls them - and a large computer sitting on a desk in the corner. “I’m at the terminal,” He says proudly.

“W-wait, already? Awesome!” Otacon cheers. “Okay, take out that key chip I gave you and plug it in. It should get you into the system, but once there, you’ll have to find the right files by yourself, in order to not risk destroying it. This data will be riddled with trojans and viruses, so we have to be absolutely sure that we have the right file.”

“And this is where the thinking cryptically comes in?”

Otacon sighs. “Yep.”

The agents go back and forth trading theories and hypotheses. It’s at least a solid ten minutes, maybe more, before a lightbulb goes on in Otacon’s head.

“Snake - you remember that speech Kepler made to his investors at the party last night?” Otacon asked. The party, Snake had attended - by crawling over the rafters in the ceiling, listening in on various conversations held by and with the mysterious Joseph Kepler of Black Rose Arms.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Didn’t it seem like he was offering up a lot of buzzwords and phrases? Calling his project the ‘rebirth of the military explosive’?”

“Now that you mention it, I do remember that.”

“I think his reasoning transfers over in this case, Snake.”

Snake catches the drift. Currently he stares at a screen filled top-to-bottom with files named after different flowers, prefixed with ‘Project’ or ‘Operation’, and other such phrases. Each program icon looks identical, and any one of them could be what they need. One false move, and their hopes of getting the plans were done for. Then again, the silver lining is, that if _they_ could no longer get to it, then neither could anyone else, ever.

The Black Rose’s “Poison Thorn” virus, so Hal tells him, exterminates every file on a computer and literally breaks hard drives and equipment by overheating and hyperexerting the components, thus making every last scrap of information stored on it lost to time. This erases the operating system and coding language, effectively turning the computer back into “a hunk of lifeless plastic, no better than a stage prop” - as Hal put it.

Needless to say, Dave was going to have to make a perfect choice.

He hears frantic typing over the other end of the codec. “Rebirth, rebirth…” Otacon keeps the word on his tongue for a few moments, the sound of rapid clicking present in Pliskin’s ear. “Aha! Snake, I’ve got it!” He proudly announces. “Search for a file by the name of Lily, or Lotus.”

“What for?” Snake asks.

“Because both lilies and lotuses are said to represent rebirth, in different cultures. With how this Kepler guy thinks, there’s no way these different pieces can’t all be connected.”

“Good point.” Snake replies. He spills over the data list, and finds several matches. “Um. Otacon, there are more than one.”

* * *

Otacon pauses, just the tiniest bit caught off-guard. “..What?”

“I- there are six files, both lily and lotus, of all different colors.”

There’s a collective few moments of ponder as they consider the available evidence, which isn’t much.

But then, Hal gets the distinct impression that Dave is smiling. “I know it.” He says with an air of satisfaction. Otacon hears a tell-tale double click, and then another louder, different click just after, followed by a deafening round of gunshots. He jumps up from comfort to panic in a split second, as he hears the sound of stomping boots, yelling, combat, and firearms.

“Snake!” He yelps. There’s no response.

It’s moments like these where Emmerich’s blood runs cold. He’s got no visual, no _actual_ confirmation of David’s safety, and no way of absolutely knowing, either (Because apparently this Kepler guy was so paranoid as to even avoid security cameras - probably for this very reason). All he can do is sit and wait, to see if David’s alive, and if so, if he’s alright. It would be a bonus if he brought back the chip, but in all honesty, Hal would just crush it up after reviewing and taking some notes on the kinds of improvements the weapon plans may hold.

But then, Hal hears the _clack-clack_ of David’s jaw, telling him that the man’s still alive, and well aware of his radio silence. Hal's heart rate is afforded the chance to slow, and he focuses for a moment. Focuses on _Dave_.

Hal keeps a sharp image of Snake present in the front of his mind. It’s Snake at his best: All sharp lines and refined contours, clean and beautiful to look at. Maybe it's the David who’s just gotten out of the shower and has a slate grey t-shirt on, his damp hair shining dimly in lamplight. Or the David who’s in civilian clothes, scanning for potential threats in a crowd while holding a cheesesteak sandwich. The David who wears his headband to bed simply to keep his hair out of his face. The David who’s _definitely coming back._ Hal leans back in his chair and closes his eyes as the violent noise coming into his headset starts to blur out.

It’s now that Emmerich notices it’s raining outside. The streetlight in the alleyway gives the brick walls a faint shine where they’re wet enough, and reflects in the rain drops on the window like little orange gemstones. Through the tiny slit of sky above the opposite building and behind the glass, he can see the Eiffel Tower far in the distance, lit up and sparkling brilliantly. ‘ _I wonder what he thought as he was climbing that tower,_ ’ Hal ponders melancholically. ‘ _I bet the view of the sky was even better while the lights were out, too._ ’

‘ _I wish we could’ve gone up there together. Just to see it all. It bet it would have been breathtaking…_ ’

‘ _...Just to be with him._ ’

“Otacon?” Snake pants. Hal jumps out of his skin, his heart skipping a beat.

“S-snake!!” He exclaims. “A-are you alright? Are they chasing you? Are you getting out? Did you get the--”

“Otacon, relax.” Dave says calmly, if exacerbated. “Everything.. Is alright. Just breathe. I can’t talk anymore, but I’ll be back very soon. Take deep breaths.”

Hal becomes equal parts relieved and anxious, as the codec call blips out. He takes Snake’s advice.

Snake seemed out of breath (somewhat ironic considering his advice, Hal thought) when he was talking, so he must’ve been fighting off guards during the loud catastrophe that came before their conversation. Then, there is a large possibility that he’d been hurt. How badly? Otacon didn’t have enough information to find out. When speculating about bad outcomes like this, he found it easiest to put it into calculations. Data is cold and unfeeling, after all, and Otacon, is not.

‘ _He’ll be fine.. Won’t he? They wouldn’t have been that strong… Would they?_’ Hal is beginning to feel as anxious as he did six days ago. His stomach twists into knots, despite the thought that Snake will most likely return. But even so, he might be injured. Even seriously. ‘ _What if he is? What if he passed out from a deep wound, somewhere on the way back home? What if he can’t contact me?_ ’ He doesn’t know why he’s getting so worried. It hasn’t always been so nerve-wracking, awaiting David to come back from a mission. But now it is. Maybe it’s how Hal’s been thinking about him recently. A conscious hour doesn’t go by that he doesn’t at least picture the man’s face. It’s becoming harder and harder to let him go out in the field. And he can’t even say anything about it. No doubt Snake would be disconcerted, right?

‘ _Dave said deep breaths. Just deep breaths. Have faith in him. He’ll be back soon._ ’ Hal repeats to himself for a long, long time until his panic leaves him and his body relaxes.

Now most of what’s left are the warm thoughts. The fuzzy thoughts, like wondering how it would have felt to touch Snake in that soft-looking black sweater. Like thinking about how Snake’s eyes seemed almost to soften when they caught his gaze. Now Hal just can’t wait to see him more than anything. Can’t wait to welcome him back proudly, to clean and dress his wounds, if any, and to share a hot, fresh slice of pizza with him as they wind down for the evening. It makes him smile wide.

* * *

David is stressing. His head hurts, his chest hurts, his arms hurt, and his hand, shoulder and leg definitely hurt from the three large knife wounds inflicted on the surface. He grits his teeth and keeps limping quickly back home, weaving through alleyways and climbing over buildings. He’s desperate to get back to Hal, and spare him from worrying so badly. Sure, Pliskin will be in bad shape when he gets there, but he won’t have abandoned Emmerich’s belief in his quick return. The last thing he wants is a repeat of the night in Paris. The look on Hal’s face. His deep eyes having turned hurt and fearful. His pale features, gaunt and tense. It’s not the Hal he wants. Snake wants the Hal who’s hair is too long and soft for his own good, who’s eyes light up when Snake asks him to explain one of his animes. He wants the Hal that is waiting for him right now, holding him to his word.

He wants Hal, period.

So he rushes toward their hotel.

When Snake comes back in, it’s not subtle. He almost slams the window pane shut behind him, breathing raggedly, and ungraceful in his movement as he collapses onto the floor. However, this time, everything is as it should be inside. Emmerich doesn’t look ill with unease, and in fact looks almost peaceful. As soon as Dave comes clambering in through the window from the alleyway, Hal’s smile becomes a grin. “David!” He jumps up from his chair. And then the grin's gone, replaced with a look of horror. “--Oh God, David!” He repeats in a panicked tone. Before Snake knows it, he feels a sharp pain in his chest as Hal hugs him tight around the middle. He grunts involuntarily, and wishes he hadn't as Hal pulls away.

“Oh! Uh-- Sorry, I should have expected you would be hurt after all that commotion I heard..” Hal says, clearing his throat. “W-welcome back. You need some cleaning up with all those cuts and scrapes… s-sit down and I’ll get the first aid stuff.

Pliskin does as he’s told, sitting on the edge of Hal’s bed as he watches Hal buzz around, looking on in stunned silence. What a drastic change from last time to now. ‘ _Is this all just because I gave him a little peace of mind?_ ’ He wonders, actively trying to quell the heat and color threatening to spread in his cheeks.

‘ _I guess what I tell him is worth a lot more than I thought._ ’ David thinks bashfully. He can almost hear what sounds like Hal humming to himself as he watches Hal gather a handful of bandages, sanitizers and antiseptics, coming back to sit down next to him.

“...Well?” Hal raises a brow.

“-O-oh. Um.” David blinks and turns around, letting Hal unlace him from his harness. Gingerly helping him get off his damaged suit top, Hal makes him wince and murmur when it grazes his injuries.

* * *

“O-Oh jeez, David.. Look at you.” Hal sighs sadly, the full extent of the range of Snake’s injuries now apparent as he goes to work. He tries not to focus on the fact that sweat is glistening on the back of Pliskin’s neck or back as he flexes sorely.

“Did you get the files, then?”

“Yup.” David hisses slightly as Hal soaks a cut in alcohol. Dave drops the tiny chip on the bed and Hal hums satisfaction. “Excellent. That’ll be good to read-through for tonight.” A bit of excitement brims in his voice.

“Where are those going, again?”

“Well, after I look at them and find out what kind of upgrades and improvements Kepler was going to make to his nuclear weapons, it’s going to the void. I’ll crush it, and erase any evidence of it from my hard drive. I’ll also run a program using it that’ll instantly delete or corrupt any files similar to that on any computer connected to the internet or wired network.” Hal states proudly.

“Wow.” Snake sounds impressed but confused, and Hal knows he doesn’t pretend to understand how that would work.

Hal swipes up the chip and puts it in his pocket, acting as if David’s bare torso isn't exposed to him. He _wants_ to be thinking as though he can’t see the smooth, rippling contours of the muscles on Snake’s back, and the broad, powerful outline of his chest from behind, which rises and falls steadily and without fault, even after such damage. But he _can_ see it, and it’s all the mental strength he has not to just run his hands all over it and admire it for ages. He dabs antiseptic on a bandage and gently covers the wound on David’s right shoulder. The man grunts.

* * *

Emmerich takes Dave’s wrist, and at first David pulls away, startled.

“Wh--”

“Your hand, David?” Otacon lifts a brow.

Pliskin blinks. “...Oh. Uh. Right.” He squirms a little in embarrassment and gives his hand over, turning his head and clearing his throat. He swallows as he feels Hal’s soft, gentle hand in his own, tenderly caring for the wound. He can’t explain why his heart skips a beat or the feels heat in his face.

* * *

Hal spends a lot of time cleaning this one. He grimaces, seeing black gunpowder and grease coming up from the cut across David’s palm with every wipe of the cleansing cloth. It _must_ hurt, he thinks, glancing up at Snake’s face. Sure enough, he can see the man biting his tongue, his jaw clenched tight to suppress hisses of pain. Hal’s brow furrows and he resumes.

“How’d you get these, anyway?” Hal asks, taking more care in his treatment of the wound.

“One of them.. Did actually bring a knife to a gun fight,” Snake answers amusedly, smiling a little through the pain.

“How’d he get to you, then?”

“She came from behind a corner I wasn’t expecting. I was fresh out of ammo so she got me while I was trying to reload.”

“Hm,” Otacon nods sadly.

* * *

Up to now Snake has spent most of his time during this staring at the wall in front of him. But hearing that short, gentle tone suddenly possesses his attention. He glances at Hal from the side. Hal's glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose as he keeps his focus on mending Dave’s hand. He’s so attentive, so gentle and sweet, seeing the amount of care radiating from Hal makes Snake stop and consider for a moment.

“What made you wanna clean me up like this?” Snake asks, as Hal gently wraps gauze around the cut.

“You deserve it.” Hal responds with a smile. “Plus, I realized I owed you one after being so inconsiderate on the last mission.” He adds, almost sheepishly.

David blinks and his brow furrows. “Inconsiderate..? But I was the one in the wrong.”

“Well, maybe, but I… I didn’t even complement you on a job well done. That one was a lot more dangerous than I thought it would be. And I was more concerned with the fact that you _weren’t_ home, than the fact that you _were_ , eventually. So I guess it’s my turn to be sorry, Dave.”

The tone of Emmerich’s voice as he says it is full of heart, Snake can tell, and the warmth in Hal's words stuns him somewhat.

Hal’s gentle hands leave the new bandage on Dave’s hand and it falls near Hal’s knee. “Now your leg, Snake.” He says. He gestures for David to move his thigh onto Hal’s, to allow him to reach the cut better. Which, all things considered, isn’t a wierd or bad idea. It shouldn’t be so embarrassing. Snake’s an army man, after all - he’s seen lots of naked men and been in _very_ close quarters with them without batting an eye. This is even less intimate. So why does it feel so… _different?_

He clears his throat and scooches toward Hal, gently hanging his leg over the man’s lap. It seems Hal is no stranger to this feeling either, because for all his polite demeanor and candidness, David still observes a red hue flush his cheeks at the increased contact. “Thank you,” Hal says, soaking a new clean rag with alcohol.

* * *

A sudden and intense sting of cleaning rag to dirty skin causes Dave to inhale sharply, gritting his teeth. “Sorry, this one’s, ah, gonna hurt the most. It’s really big, and a lot of dirt has gotten into it..” Hal states apologetically. He lightens his touch and tries to be gentle, his other hand coming to a rest on Snake’s thigh unconsciously.

Hal doesn’t even notice he’s done it until he glances away from the wound for a moment and sees it. Rather than pulling it away however, and creating a heightened sense of awkwardness between them, he decides to leave it there. If David says anything he’ll move. But Hal has a funny feeling he won’t. Besides, he and Dave have known each other a long time now. What’s a gentle hand to comfort a hurting friend?

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

* * *

David can’t stop his heart rate from quickening ever so slightly as Hal’s hands move over his leg. ‘ _Maybe it’s from the pain._ ’ He thinks, as if he doesn’t know what’s happening. A part of him chastises himself for feeling so bashful, so _vulnerable_ from Hal’s presence, but another part of him just wishes he had some kind of context under which he could express this. ‘ _If sure would be nice if he just… **knew**._’ Snake laments silently. ‘ _So I didn’t have to tell him. But-- maybe I don’t **wan’t** him to know, anyway. What would he think?_’

He hisses at an abrupt stabbing pain in his thigh. “U-uh, sorry. There was a pebble stuck in there I had to remove.” Hal says a bit frantically. After a moment Snake sighs and lets the tension out of his shoulder. He feels the thumb of Hal’s free hand rubbing back and forth in little motions on his leg now, in a comforting manor. He also sees the knit of Emmerich’s brow, all worried and careful as he gently cleans out the large cut. It only further intensifies the flurry in his heart, seeing Hal tend to him like this.

The last of the debris is scrubbed out, and a considerable amount of blood comes with it. No doubt, this and the gash on David’s shoulder are going to leave scars. But at least they’re wrapped up and taken care of now, and the numb, throbbing pain that comes with having a grimy wound has subsided.

“Thanks Hal, I… Really appreciate that.” Snake smiles.

Hal’s heart flutters slightly. “Y-- Of course. You’re worth it, Dave.” He replies.

Pliskin ducks his head a little and rubs his neck as a light blush paints his cheeks. “I really.. Appreciate _everything_ you do for me, Hal.” He adds, a gentle sweetness present in his tone.

Hal’s slowly become aware of the fact that niether of them have moved yet. Side by side, hip to hip, Dave’s bandaged leg draped over Hal’s lap, and not an ounce of hesitation between them. Hal takes a risk and puts his hand over Dave’s on the bed. “I really appreciate _you_ , Snake.” He smiles in defiance of the embarrassment that burns his face. And _oh_ , the shade that David’s cheeks turn as he looks up, so warm and flushed and pretty. They way his eyes look, all glowing in the dim lamp light, a little wide in shock by Hal’s words, just makes Hal’s heart pound.

* * *

Suddenly, David can’t find a reason to hide his secret sentiment anymore. “I.. Can I…” Snake mutters as he gently puts his hand to Hal’s cheek.

They’re _so_ close now, and Dave’s lips are parted, and he looks so soft and earnest, his beautiful face merely inches away now, and--

“ _Yes_ ,” Hal answers, before his anxiety has the chance to get the best of him and ruin the moment. He cups David’s face and leans in, equal parts excitement and nerves as he presses their lips together.

They both take in a long, deep breath with the kiss, which lasts for what feels like hours. As they part Snake puts his forehead against Hal’s. “I’ve.. W-wanted to do that for..” His enchantment is evident in his voice, his eyes wide and sparkling.

“Ah-- Y-yeah. Me too.” Hal smiles, his heart singing and his chest feeling lighter than it’s ever felt before.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hal?"

Rays of afternoon sun pierce through the window and glint in Hal’s glasses. He always prefers driving when there’s something to keep his mind occupied. And for about ten hours, he's been fixated on one thing.

Ten hours ago, at four in the morning, Snake had kissed him. Six hours ago, they had packed up and left their hotel after a hurried rest. David had piled their duffle bags into the back of their small, old sedan, while Hal insisted on driving. While driving he can ruminate on ideas and occurrences, able to keep his hands busy on the wheel instead of fidgeting. Not that it keeps him from erratically drumming his fingers on it.

Ten hours. It has already been ten hours since he kissed Snake. All these hours later, it still takes up most of the space in his brain.

“Hal?” Snake repeats, bringing Otacon out of his mind.

“Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah, Dave?” Otacon clears his throat.

“I was saying that I thought it'd be good to stop for food and a refuel next time we see someplace.” Snake says. “You agree?”

“Yeah, um. F-for sure,” Hal replies, a bit half-heartedly. He tries to smile through it, noticing in the corner of his eye, the way David’s scowling at him.

“Are you okay, Otacon?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

Hal swallows and takes a breath. “Y-yes-- no? I, ah, I don’t know really, I-I’m still.. Thinking about... **it**.” He tips his head and nudges his glasses forward sheepishly. Snake understands, as his eyes widen and his face straightens. “Oh… Um.. Yeah.” Hal can see him blush just a bit. “M...me too.” He turns to face forward and folds his arms. For an all-too-long moment, the car fills with their combined silence. Then Snake speaks up again. “I… I’m sorry. That was. Way outta line. I shouldn't've--”

“No! _No_ , it’s not that,” Hal replies frantically. “I-- to be honest, I had wanted to for a while. I just, well, didn’t think you’d feel the same.” Emmerich’s knuckles turn pale on the steering wheel. “Really, I-I.. I didn’t think you’d _ever_ think of me like that. At- at all.” He admits.

Snake’s brow furrows. He mulls this over for a moment. “I’ve thought about you like that for a while, Otacon.” He mutters softly. “I didn’t know what it was for a long time, but then, when I was up on the Eiffel Tower, and I saw the sky and all the stars, I thought about you. And all I could think was.. That I wanted you there next to me. I wanted to be close to you.” His voice is soft and unsure. And Hal’s heart swells to hear him this way.

“Ah- sorry, that. That sounded weird--”

“No, Snake, it’s okay. It didn’t sound weird, it sounded… beautiful.” Hal’s face turns, his cheeks burn as he thinks over every word Snake’s spoken. _‘God, if I’m dreaming, please don’t make me wake up now.’_

“Beau- well. I wouldn’t go _that_ far…” Snake mumbles.

“Snake, you-” Hal squawks as he nearly hits a car by drifting into the other lane, swerving at just the right time to avoid it and then pulling off to the side of the road soon after. This is too much to focus on all at once. Thinking about Snake’s affections has overwhelmed his mind, and he has to stop, settle and collect himself. David looks over at him, brow knit in concern and his hand braced on the door.

“Otacon,” He says, an arm outstretched towards Hal’s trembling shoulder. Hal takes a deep, shaky breath and leans into the hand, rubbing his temples. “S-Snake, I’ve never… N-nobody’s ever said that to me and meant it. Hell, almost nobody’s ever said to me, period. And- hearing it from you, knowing that you mean it.. I…” Emmerich sniffs as his eyes begin to sting through his joyful smile.

Despite wearing his glasses, his vision blurs as he faintly hears David say “Hal,” before hearing the car door open, then close, then open again. And suddenly, he feels thick, strong arms wrapping around his torso, a large and powerful chest enveloping his upper body in warmth.

Otacon is determined not to cry. This is a _happy_ thing, and though it had taken him over so much more utterly than any other thought he’s ever had, he won’t let it wreck him, but instead, strengthen him. Snake is his friend, and his partner, and now he might be even more than that. It’s just as Emmerich’s dreamt about on so many cold and lonely nights, a bedroom wall separating him from the man he devotes himself to.

“I’ve got you. It’s alright.” David hums.

“It _is_ alright, Dave… I don’t know why I want to cry right now. Just.. let me, um-…” Hal trails off, a little more trembling than he means to be. He embraces Snake, which seems to surprise him somewhat.

“Thank you, David. Thanks for everything.”

From his place in the crook of Dave’s shoulder, he could faintly feel a heat rise up the man's neck. “Ah, s-sure. No problem.” Dave mumbles.

They let out a collective sigh, holding close to each other as the tightness in Hal’s chest, and the tension in Dave’s shoulders faded slowly.

“You want me to drive now?” Dave asks.

“Y-yeah.. That'd be nice.” Hal nods. Suddenly, feeling emotional and physical exhaustion catching up with him.

Here in Dave’s arms, Hal feels safest. So for now, he’ll let Dave take the lead.

* * *

David can barely keep his eyes on the road. Thinking about Hal, looking at him sleep in the passenger seat, his cheek against the cold window and his glasses crooked and falling off his nose… It makes him feel like he did on the Eiffel Tower, or with Hal’s gentle hands mending his wounds. He can’t help but smile a little, at how soft Hal looks in this moment. It still baffled Snake how he and Hal had crossed paths, and stuck together after they did. Lord knows he wasn’t very nice to Hal when they met, and he regrets it. Despite this, Hal had still chosen to stick around. And for that, Dave would always be grateful.

Snake leaned over to pinch the bridge of Hal’s glasses and slide them off his face, setting them on the dashboard. The metal frames always caught light in a way that held David’s gaze. Or maybe, it was Hal’s eyes, too.

Some countless miles after, when David racks up about as much driving time as Hal and is feeling tiredness sinking in around his eyes, he finds a small inn, lights on outside and a sign advertising open rooms. He nudges Hal awake softly and guides the drowsy man up to the second floor of the stone-built inn. “Danke,” David says to the stocky housekeeper, with a smile as polite as he could manage as she gives her a thin wad of euros. He takes the key to the corner room and walks Emmerich inside, setting his glasses on the side table and letting him flop onto the wooden log bed. He then hauls their luggage in from the car, settling by the small open window to smoke.

After a couple minutes, Hal stirs. “Wait… Dave,” Hal yawns, and turns over to face him. “There’s only one bed.”

“Mhm.” Snake grunts.

“Did you get a second room?”

“Nope. All full.” He explains in as few words as possible.

“Are you… going to sleep?”

“There’s an armchair,” Snake answers, nudging his elbow in the direction of a ratty recliner in the corner of the room.

“David…” Otacon rubs his eyes and sits up. “You’ve got to get some good sleep. You didn’t get any during the car ride.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dave replies. Which is mostly true. He’s had more than his share of 24-hour stretches of sleep deprivation. And sleeping in a chair certainly isn’t the worst condition he’s rested in. But still, being tired isn’t good, no matter now artificially enhanced your body is- _especially_ when you’ve got a lot of wounds to heal. But Hal didn’t need to be reminded of that. “You need sleep more than I do.”

“That’s not true.” Hal’s tone holds concern.

“Just relax, alright? I’ll be okay, Hal. Get some more rest.” Snake responds, but without any heat in his voice.

There’s a long beat of silence.

“We’ve slept in the same bed before, Snake. Remember?” Hal says softly.

David swallows. Hal was _right_. But it had been mandatory then- for warmth, for protection from threats, for proximity in case of a sudden need to exfiltrate.

But it’s not cold. There’s no threat. There’s no _need_ for an escape plan.

And yet the idea seems as feasible as ever- _enticing_ , even. David won’t lie to himself and say that he hasn’t enjoyed another warm body close to his own during the night. He has night terrors frequently, and somehow feeling Hal’s weight settling in on the other side of the mattress lessens their effect on him. Snake can justify it to himself in so many ways, and yet, it doesn’t change the fact that a fine, faint heat is flooding his cheeks. He suddenly feels thankful that the lamp on the other corner of the room was dim; casting stingy lighting on his face.

Then again, _he’d kissed Hal_. It isn’t a dream anymore, it wasn’t just his mind playing his tricks on him, fleeting thoughts of vague romance. What had previously been immaterial is now very real. He isn’t sure how to deal, even though he’s been trying to process it for hours now. The quiet time, alone in the car, Hal asleep in the passenger’s seat had been nerve-wracking for this reason. Hal deserves a special, gentle touch, something that snake is far from known for. What is he to do?

“It won’t be awkward, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Emmerich adds, the drowsiness now absent from his voice as he sits up at the edge of the bed. “It’ll be just like it always was. And. I mean.” He sighs.

“God David, if I’m being perfectly honest, I really liked it when we slept toge-- I-In the same bed.” He stutters. “I.. got to be so close to you, a-and it was reassuring to know you were always next to me.”

  
_That_ makes Snake’s heart start to pound. So, Hal feels the same _there_ , also. His jaw squares, and he knows his cheeks must look red. He suddenly doesn’t have the courage to look at his partner. David keeps staring at the window, dragging on his half-ashed cigarette.

“…Hmm.”

“Come on, talk to me, Snake.”

David takes a long, deep breath. “…I… Yeah. Me too. I just..” He swallows, his nerves are already fraying. “This is all going so fast, Hal. I’ve never- I’m not used to feeling this way.. How. I do about you. I don’t know what to do about it, what I’m… _Supposed_ to do.”  
  


“Well, neither do I, Dave.” Otacon stands, making his way toward the man. “It’s not exactly like there’s a manual on how to admit the feelings you have for your friend.”

“But what if that’s not.. what _it_ is?” Snake looks up, and there’s what looks like a certain sort of fear in his eyes.

Hal stops. “What do you mean?”

“It’s- Uh. Well,” Dave makes a sound of distress before quickly using up the rest of his cigarette for a bit of courage, tossing the end into the open air. “What if what I _think_ I’m feeling isn’t what I’m actually feeling? What if I’ve got this all wrong, Hal?” The hesitation is evident in his voice. Hal certainly understands, but also… does _not_ want to lose this chance he’s been given to strengthen his bond with one of his only friends. Dare he say, his _best_ friend. So, for once, it’s Hal who will be the grounded one, it’ll be him who brings David down from a panic.

“Well, what do you think you feel?” Hal takes a step forward.

Snake pauses a moment. “I think.. I’m feeling. Love. Or— well--“ He immediately backtracks with a panic as he realizes what he’s admitting. But instead of confusion or disapproval, as he expects, Hal seems to light up at the word, his brow lifting and his shoulders perking.

“Love?” Emmerich repeats with a hopeful tone in his voice. He steps a bit closer.

“Um… yeah…?” David rubs his neck and swallows.

“Okay.” Otacon says calmly, “Then what do you think you’re actually feeling, if you’re not feeling love?” He asks.

David thinks a good bit about that one. It could be any number of things. Lust? Loneliness? Overattachment? He hasn’t really thought of Hal’s body too often, but when he does, now that he is… that lithe, flawless figure— _‘Oh God.’_

And then again, he’d always been a solitary man, with no reliance on anyone else. He is _Solid_ Snake after all, not _Dependent_ Snake. He’s supposed to be the one-man army. But maybe all the countless nights of empty beds and restless sleeps are catching up to him.

Maybe these sentiments will be a burden on Hal, whatever Dave’s really thinking. Will Hal even accept any of this, anyway?

“I.. Don’t know, I don’t.. Ah…” He really wishes he had another Lucky Star right about now. His split nerves and settling exhaustion are making his cool and calm exterior crumble.

“David, you don’t have to hide your emotions from me. We’ve been partners for years. Nothing’s gonna change that, alright?” Butterflies flood Hal’s stomach. This is it. “O-okay.” Dave’s tension breaks. This is the moment.

“I. Hal, I think I’ve… Fallen in love with you.”

Emmerich thinks he was ready to hear it, but he isn’t. It sparks a jolt in his heart. Snake is anything but plain, and so he hadn’t just said he _loved_ him. He’d _fallen in love_ with him. Hearing this confession, so intimate, spoken so gently by a man who is so seldom gentle— it makes him overflow with emotion. His lungs flutter with an exhilarated breath as he makes a final step towards David Pliskin, just mere inches away, now. David - usually full of confidence and taking up all the space in the room with loud silence – now stood paling before Hal; smally quiet, his presence timid, eyes shy and shoulders tense.

“Oh, David…” Emmerich mutters reverently. He takes David’s hand, eyes shining with joy. “I love you too.”

Something lifts in Snake’s expression. “You.. Do?”

“Dave, would I lie to you?” Otacon’s other hand goes to David’s cheek, which he rubs gently with his thumb.

“N.. No.” Snake puts a tentative palm on Hal’s shoulder.

David’s apprehension is palpable and his nervousness saddens Hal. He’s got to be there for the man, help him out of this. Help him cope and be alright again. His own heart is beating out of his chest, but he finds the strength to keep a calm face. The last thing David needs is to start getting second thoughts because of Hal’s own reaction.

“Breathe, Snake.” Hal slowly wraps his arms around Pliskin’s neck, and he surprises even himself with how his heart skips a beat from David’s supportive warmth. He stills at Hal’s touch. Then, slowly after a moment, his hands find themselves on Hal’s back and his stillness becomes more permanent. His chest rises and falls in slow, powerful breaths. It’s like Hal imagines it to be, if Dave were to hold him in bed. He _wants_ to know what that would really be like. He _doesn’t_ want this to be the closest they get. He especially doesn’t want this to become an awkward footnote in their history. So, he tries to seal the deal.

“Snake.. Y-you want to make sure of what you’re feeling, right?” He asks.

Snake nods, which he can feel on the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah.”

So Hal steps back to see David’s face. Whose expression is calm but cautious, like a seasoned adventurer exploring exotic territory.

Emmerich cupped his cheeks. “Then.. Do you want to try and kiss again?” He asks softly, looking for any movements of panic in David’s face.

Instead of panic, what almost looks like relief defines his expression. His brow lifts and his eyes widen just so, part shock, part excitement, part… Something else entirely. “Y… You sure?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t, Dave.” Otacon smiles easily.

Snake seems to calculate for a few moments. His gaze flickers about and his hands move timidly from Emmerich’s back, ghosting up his sides, to rest at his shoulders. Then, with a bit more determination, he refocuses on Hal. He leans in close. “Okay.” He mutters.

Otacon closes the distance in a matter of moments. It’s almost euphoric; and awkward, and a bit messy, but euphoric nonetheless. The imperfections keep Hal in the moment, keep him from getting lost with his head in the clouds. He takes a deep breath and David’s smell is dragged into his nose – the smell of his skin, and the fresher smoky scent of the cigarette he’d just thrown out. It isn’t, by any means, a purposefully alluring aroma. And yet Emmerich is entranced, all the same.

Hal decides, David smells like a log cabin that’s been lived in a long time, possibly one in Alaska. Rugged, and a bit dirty, but comforting. Just like him. And Hal drinks it in like fine wine, as he presses against chapped lips.

* * *

David is going crazy. Everything is spinning, and he’s swaying on his heels, only staying upright by the anchoring hold of Hal’s hands on his cheeks. His lips are tingling. Hal’s are so soft, ‘ _Did he put on chapstick…?_ ’ He wonders pointlessly before this rush of blood to his head brings him to make a dramatic sound. He startles himself with the groan, and Hal’s eyes open when he hears it. It’s overwhelming, how much Dave doesn’t know how to process this.

Hal pulls back just slightly and Snake wonders if he’s done something wrong. “Was… Was that okay..?” He asks quietly. Hal seems to catch his breath and smiles.

“Th-that was… _great_.” He replies. “..How do you feel now?”

David takes a moment to think about it, staring down between them, their hands firmly secured on the other. Maybe a kiss doesn’t mean anything to Hal, in which case it’s fine, Dave can live with unrequited feelings. But if _not_ , if there is a real possibility that Hal could love _him_ , a man so deeply damaged and flawed, then he is willing to push past all the hesitation.

“I think.. I think I _do_ love you.” Pliskin says. No frills, nothing flourish, just a simple phrase. Straight to the truth of the matter. He’s no good at dramatics, anyway. And the possibility edges into his mind that perhaps Otacon had been just waiting for Snake to say something all this time. So, he does.

“Oh, David..” Hal closes whatever gap remains between them, and looks into Snake’s eyes so earnestly that Snake thinks he might have a heart attack. “I love you too.” And Dave doesn’t have time to ask if it’s the truth, because Emmerich’s perfect lips are on his a third time, gentle and sweet, but showing a bit more intent than last time.

So David kisses back. Because there’s nothing he’d rather do. He squeezes Hal close around the waist, breathing in how clean, how trim he smells, all coffee and only slightly worn clothes and messy hazelnut hair, that still shows remnants of silver a couple inches at the ends.

Snake isn’t sure how long it lasts. Maybe a second, maybe a minute, maybe longer. The duration isn’t what’s important - it’s the sensation. And David has never felt anything remotely like it.

‘ _Is that what love feels like?_ ’ He asks himself, heart pounding, and head spinning. And he reasons (as much as anyone could, feeling the way he is right now) it must be. For he hadn’t noticed just how bad his heart aches for Hal, until the ache had just now been filled.

When Hal offers him a chance to slip under the covers with him a few minutes later, Pliskin obliges. It’s not just out of any feeling of duty or protection this time. He wants to be there, and he knows Hal wants him to be there, too.

David sleeps peacefully, without a single nightmare, for the first time since as long as he can remember.


	4. Chapter 4

Otacon can barely bring himself to keep his eyes closed. He turns away from Snake as soon as the man slots against him. He settles into it comfortably enough – it feels almost like second nature, so relaxed and intrinsic a position that it almost startles him with just how comfortable it feels. Then again, he’s experienced it before; just never after the man he does it with confesses **love**.

Hal tries to play it smooth, be calm about the whole thing - but his heart is racing. And he knows Pliskin can feel it when he's this close to his body. Which is why he keeps propping himself up on one elbow and slowly leaning over to check if Hal’s really asleep. But Hal pulls off the pretense convincingly enough that Snake doesn’t question it. After all, what’s the point, if Otacon was just going to be awake? Or at least, that was what Hal thought Snake _would_ think. But on the other hand, there is the possibility that Pliskin gets up _because_ he thinks Hal is asleep – no need to stay in bed with him if he doesn’t know Snake’s there, right?

So Emmerich practically freezes in place. Too scared to move, or give any hints away. More than anything at the moment, he just doesn’t want David to _leave_.

When Pliskin’s heartbeat starts to slow, and his arms around Hal’s small body feel less stiff and more relaxed, that’s when Hal feels like he can ease up.

Once he finally rests into it, he feels more comfortable than he’s ever felt in his life. Sure, the bed’s not great, and the sheets are a little scratchy. But David’s at his back, Hal fitting perfectly in the distance between his arms, and suddenly he’s never felt better in the warm and welcoming embrace. So as he finally closes his eyes with the intention of sleep, it comes swiftly and gently, his conscious fading out to the peaceful sound of wind rustling through the trees outside.

* * *

When David awakes, Hal is not in his arms, and his glasses are not on the nightstand. For a second he wonders if the evening before had just been a rare good dream, until he notices the sloppily-folded piece of paper tucked into his hand. Opening it, he reads:

_“Went to get coffee! Will be back soon <3 Don’t move an inch! ;)”_

A relieved smile quickly replaces the disappointment.

Thinking now, Snake supposes it wouldn’t be terrible to have a slow, calm morning. He’s sufficiently convinced – after tracking the movement of dozens of suspicious-looking cars following their path yesterday, all of which had ultimately normal behavior and did not tail them all the way down the long, lonely road – that they haven’t been followed. It seems there’s no immediate threat, so they can afford to at least stay the morning here.

And it’s unusual, for Snake to wake up so late – to not jump out of bed at 4 or 5 or 6 in the morning and do a ludicrous amount of reps in sit-ups or pushups, followed by a perimeter check, a cigarette, et cetera… But then again, this is all unusual. Sleeping with his best friend out of no necessity, but simply out of desire. He… likes it. This calm, he feels. For a single morning, maybe he doesn’t have to be Solid Snake; Maybe, he can just be David. A guy, waiting for his maybe-boyfriend to come back with cof—

Pliskin’s nerves scream alive in one swift jolt as he hears the familiar sound of disintegrating glass, creaking metal and roaring flames – an explosion.

‘ _Oh fuck,_ ’ He thinks, ‘ _Where’s Hal._ ’

He flies down the hallway, down the stairs, into the common room, and out the door of the inn in a blur. He looks, frantically, for the source of the explosion, for **Hal** , more so; people are panicking in a commotion, startled screams and stumbling footsteps of the few pedestrians outside the now awakened area.

Snake’s body moves him towards the sound of burning like the instinct of a predator moving to challenge a threat. He runs to the left side of the building, the parking lot, and sees—

‘ _No. God, no._ ’

Hal Emmerich is face-down in the gravel, unmoving. Pliskin’s logical brain tells him that Otacon was probably knocked back by the explosion, because his clothes are darkened with burns and it looks like his body hair has been singed off. But he doesn’t much listen, or care at the moment. There’s a car half ablaze a few yards behind the engineer.

“ _HAL,_ ” Snake screams, rushing to him and scooping him up in his arms. When he moves him Otacon makes a quiet groan, which at least sets Snake’s heart pounding a little less quickly. He’s still alive. ‘ _Thank God he’s still alive._ ’ Snake blurs in thought, rapidly assessing for damage. A few cuts on the face, a bruise on the jaw where his face hit the ground the hardest. Scrapes and bruises on his arms, cracked glasses—

* * *

“S-Snake…?” Hal mumbles, disorientated as he opens his eyes. David’s right above him, cut into a few different pieces by the refractive shards of his broken glasses. Pliskin looks horrified up until Emmerich says his name – he blanks out, eyes wide, and filling with tears.

Hal’s name barely comes out as a whisper from David’s lips- in fact, he realizes he can’t hear it at all. He can’t hear _anything_ , save for the ringing in his ears. Then he feels startling drops of water on his face, but the sky above him is clear and dim; the sun still rising over the mountains. Before Emmerich can snap out of his daze, he’s being pulled into Snake’s shoulder, the man shivering against him with ragged breaths and shaking arms. And then, his head spins as he leaves the ground in one smooth motion, securely in his best friend’s embrace. ‘ _Oh no,_ ’ He thinks. ‘ _I could’ve left David._ ’

Hal sees the rapid shift of surroundings from the sunrise sky above him to smoky log ceiling, feeling the powerful pound of David’s legs beneath him as he quickly rushes back up to their rented room. His hearing is starting to come back by the time Pliskin’s locked the door and set Hal gently down on the bed. He’s able to regain his orientation as David rapidly unpacks his duffle, haphazardly ripping at medical supplies and firearms. Snake’s opening the windows, swearing under his breath, his hands trembling around the grip. There are clear streams of tears down his cheeks, his teeth bared and his jaw clenched as he eagle-eyes out the small openings in the curtains, clearly checking for threats.

“Snake,” Emmerich says again, softly. The soldier’s body snaps rigid, out of the corner of his straining eyes.

“…Otacon?” Pliskin replies, his head turning to look at Hal. He suddenly drops his guard, coming quickly to Hal’s side. “Fuck, thank God,” Snake grunts, holding back sobs. “Otacon.” He repeats as he kneels over the engineer, holding him ever-so-gently. “I thought you were fading. I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to get you back in time. Fuck. Otacon- Hal.” Snake’s mouth runs in an emotionally-overflowed slur of words, and Hal brings up his bruised, scratched arm to put a hand on Snake’s shoulder.

* * *

“I-I’m okay..” He says weakly, feeling the sting of his dry throat. The statement isn’t quite true, but it’s true enough for Hal. He's lucid, and not too hurt, and he feels that everything important is more-or-less intact. “I’m okay.” He also feels the utter fear and desperation in David’s voice, unlike anything else he’s ever experienced from the man before. Really, David seems much less okay than Hal at the moment. And like second nature, Hal’s frail arms wrap around David’s wide, strong frame and thin, cold hands rest on a sturdy back.

Pliskin resists gently, trying to pull away. “Hal, there’s a threat, someone tried to kill you, I have to—”

“No, no, no one tried to kill me, David..” Hal mumbles, not letting go of his friend. And though Hal’s grip on him would be effortless to break away from, David doesn’t.

And it’s here where Hal finds his experience with high-pressure situations coming in handy again, because he’s learned to keep a facts-oriented mind in the midst of hysteria. It was, is, and will continue to be, a necessity. And now – though there is no urgent mission to complete – is no different. He’s got to ground the usually over-grounded soldier.

“The car next to ours was having engine troubles, I tried to help out but it was totaled. I went to get my wallet from the rental for coffee, and the other car started smoking. I just didn’t get away fast enough, that’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s _all?_ ” Snake gasps, so close to Hal’s face that Hal can feel his hot, dry breath brush his nose. “Hal, you were caught by a damn _explosion_.”

“I’ll be _fine_ , David.. I didn’t break anything. I just… Need some water and rest.”

“Hal—”

“ _Snake._ ”

* * *

The tone in Hal’s voice in that one word becomes unlike any other he’s heard from the man. Forceful, and with intent to incite authority, but also caring, and gentle, and kind - sounding more likely to come from David’s own lips than Hal’s. And yet, it acts in David, stilling his body, poised for action, for _attack_ , into a position of calm, of care. Hal doesn’t need protection, he needs _care_. So David fills the need, pushed to duty by Hal’s unintended order.

“Okay.” Pliskin breathes. He grabs the first aid kid, and a glass of water, and plants himself on Hal’s side of the bed.

It’s not the sight of blood that gets to Snake’s nerves. That’s the farthest thing from it. No, the fact that it’s _Hal’s_ blood he’s wiping off that gets to him. It’s _his_ skin he’s patching up. Emmerich’s pale, blemishless skin. Skin that’s glowing in the morning sun, which Pliskin reverently cleans the dried blood off of. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Otacon’s restless features contorting into pain and discomfort, and his heart wrenches slightly. His own pain is easy to ignore. He’s been doing it for years now. But it’s much harder to keep calm when someone else is feeling it, let alone his best friend.

Snake digs a small pebble gently out of the gooey mess of the gash on Otacon’s knee. He whines, clearly trying to bite down on the sound and turning his head away from David.

“It’s okay,” soothes David, putting a palm over the back of Hal’s hand. “I know it hurts. There’s no shame in pain.”

“B-but you always take it so coolly…” Hal replies, the depth in his voice partially gone. “You get hurt so much worse, always… And here I am, getting upset over a skinned knee..” Otacon folds his arms and huffs, his brow furrowed.

“But you weren’t trained as a _soldier_. When you get hurt, you feel pain, and you feel bad because of it. That’s just how humans are.”

“…So.. Does that mean it’s _inhuman_ that you don’t?” Otacon asks.

And that’s when Snake stops for a moment.

Because the fact is that _no_ , Snake doesn’t consider himself human. He considers himself _less_ than human. And for all intents and purposes, he’s pretty much assumed Hal did too. And now that base assumption is being shaken, however.

The way Otacon says it, with just the slightest tinge of concern, makes David feel sour. Like Hal’s saying he’s not supposed to think that way. Which, reading between the lines, that’s _exactly_ what he’s saying.

* * *

Hal sees a faraway look of pain on David’s face. He knows exactly what it means.

“David…” Hal says sadly. Snake looks at him, then gazes back down.

“I don’t.. I…” A bit of resolve seems to leak back into Snake’s voice and he sighs. “..Let’s.. just focus on you, for now. Alright…?” He asks, not with any malice, but with pleading; soft and slightly sorrowful. And it’s so saddening to see Snake the way that he’s been this morning that Hal nearly chokes up. Because David’s the most human he could _be_ , like this. Emotion running through him, spilling to the surface. His constant internal conflict made visible. He's vulnerable, and he despises being vulnerable. But he's willing to put everything aside, for Hal's sake. Putting Hal first, as he usually did. As he always did.

So Hal does drop it. “…Okay, David.” He answers, gentle and easy, like the weary hand that graces Snake’s shoulder as he tends to the wounds.

At some point Hal dips into a restless but comfortable drift, closing his eyes. He can still feel the warmth around him, moving slowly this way and that, Snake's calloused hands used to so much violence being used gently - to heal. And he thinks, aimlessly in this state, about the night a few days before; when it had been _his_ hands, on that sturdy and overused body. Battered and broken so often, repeatedly, and yet still with the capacity to give.

“I need to, um. We need to get your clothes off, Hal. I have to check for wounds on your back, too.” Snake asks hesitantly. And Hal’s curious as to why. “Okay,” He agrees, blinking his eyes open a few times before sitting up and doing as he’s told.

It shouldn’t feel as intimate and exposed as it does. God knows Snake’s probably been naked in front of dozens of men, been _exposed_ to dozens naked in return. That’s just how army life is. Hell, they’ve been down to underwear before in each other’s presences, this isn’t the first time. And _yet_ …

The world is blurry without his glasses on, but he can still see the faint form of Pliskin’s body in front of him. David is avoiding Hal’s eyes, he can tell, but it’s not like he’d be able to see them if David’s head actually raised to look at him. He’s as still as a tree as he’s being assessed by the soldier, painfully aware of both the proximity and attention being put on him, and the jabbing aches in his ribs.

Neither he nor Dave speak a word. But the silence isn’t tense, despite Hal’s nerves running slightly haywire. Snake’s hands. His hands…

Emmerich’s body jolts all at once as David presses on his lower left rib with a rough palm. It accentuates the pain, while also filling Hal’s stomach with butterflies at the touch.

“Does that hurt?” Asks Snake.

“U-um, y-yes,” Emmerich replies quietly, the little depth of his voice gone.

David makes a nondescript “hm” and lets his warm hand nest gently on Hal’s waist as the other hand, Hal observes, moves to the right side.

“What about there?” David asks? And this time, the dull pain is overruled by the feeling of Pliksin’s gentle hand directly on his skin. He’s acutely aware here, of the way it stretches over his ribs just a little too thinly – he can’t help having been underweight his whole life. The college student diet is never something he’s rubbed off.

Compared to Dave, Hal is truly unremarkable in stature. He knows this, for it’s plain to see if they’re in the room together. His 120 pounds _wet_ hardly holds a candle to his confidant’s hulking, sturdy build. And yet, David loves him. Loves _him_ – a computer nerd, of all unlikely people. And it shows in the way he holds Hal with his hands.

David’s hands. His _hands_ \- They bring electricity to Hal’s body in a way that he hasn’t felt before. Part of him wishes to tell David that his back is sore, aching, just on the tantalizing chance that the man would offer a massage. And it occurs to him that perhaps, this fixation is simply a case of touch starvation, rather than his desire for David’s touch specifically; but this is immediately ruled out as he visualizes, dreaming up how it’d be to feel Snake’s hands, pressing, kneading into his back. How _good_ it would feel, on his cold, thin body—

“Hal..?” David repeats.

“-Uh,” Emmerich blinks rapidly, taking a startled breath. “N-not too bad,” He finishes.

“..Right.” David nods, seeming satisfied enough with his assessment, though he looks somewhat distracted.

After a moment however, he gets back in step. Gently coaxing Hal onto his stomach, exposing Hal’s back, David’s hands roam attentively down the expanse of it, checking for burns, bruises, et cetera. But all Hal can think about is that he’s gotten exactly what he wanted without even asking. David’s thorough nature and determinedness to care, had no doubt led him straight down a path that was leaning quickly away from simple medical treatment, and roaming more and more towards tending to sensual needs.

“God, you’re knotted up like hell..” Pliskin mutters, pressing the pads of his fingers between Hal’s shoulder blades. It takes all of Hal’s willpower not to shudder with delight. Slowly, David’s fingers worked through the stiff muscles, easing Hal into deep relaxation like chocolate melting over low heat. In his bliss, he hears David humming absently above him. The soldier’s low, rumbling tone softens Emmerich even further into the mattress, until the aches and pains of the hour before are but a distant memory, dissolving along with his consciousness into warmth and safety.

It’s several hours later when Hal rouses again, much cozier than he was before. The world is still fuzzy when he opens his eyes. As he blinks awake, he sees Snake’s pulled him under the covers of the bed, having first bandaged and patched up whatever remaining wounds were on his legs. His knees must have been scraped- he feels thin gauze taped over both of them.

And it’s also now that he realizes that Pliskin’s sleeping _with_ him. The man’s body is to one side, edging just enough over Hal’s for him to feel some of the weight, a large arm securely laid over his chest. David’s head is on his shoulder, his whole body looking as peaceful as Hal’s ever seen him during sleep.

“..Hal- Are you feeling okay…?” Pliskin’s tired voice cuts through the silence quietly, before Hal’s even moved a muscle.

“Ah, Snake..” Emmerich blinks, reaching a surprisingly not-sore arm to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses, “I’m fine.” He yawns.

“Are you sure?” Dave starts to move up, his eyes laser-focused on Hal’s face. His hand moves to Hal’s cheek, slow and gentle, and _oh God_ the gentleness of it all. Emmerich’s cold, slim face feels instantly warmed by the touch, and he almost leans into it.

“Yes, I’m sure…” Hal sighs, sleep sticking to him in the peacefulness. He blinks a few times, feeling David quickly beginning to move off. He moves in response, pulling his other arm around the man’s waist and tugging him back weakly. “Wait, wait, _wait_..” He mutters.

“Hal, I have to-“

“You have to _nothing_ ,” Hal replies with a little huff. “..David, just. Be calm for a little while.”

“I was calm when I was sleeping.”

“Well, then you can stand to be calm for a little longer while you’re awake.”

Pliskin sits up a bit on his knees, looking around the room cautiously before setting his gaze back on Otacon. “…Hal, I have to protect you.”

“And you won’t be able to do that while _literally laying on top of me?_ ” Emmerich smiles a little incredulously, raising an eyebrow a bit, and Snake glances away with a slight flush.

Hal’s look softens and he tugs gently again. “David, please.. Just lay with me?”

David pauses, then relents, lowering himself carefully back down onto Otacon. He takes a deep breath, settling his chin on Hal’s chest. “…I just. M’worried about your safety. Is all.” He mumbles, eyes avoiding the engineer’s face. “Have to make sure you’re okay.”

Hal lays there for a moment, simply looking over Snake’s features. He remembers the first time, in Shadow Moses. When David’s care for his wellbeing was founded in nothing more than his utility in the mission. And now, two-odd years and so much partnership experience later.. The irony began to hit him.

“…Dave, your safety is far and away in more danger than mine, hah.” He states, smiling half-amused, half-adoring. Certainly no laughing matter, but the simple facts of their different professions were proof for the statement. Pliskin is the one who puts his life on the line in the field every time he goes out, _not_ Emmerich. Sitting behind a desk with a laptop in a safehouse, miles away from the action, he’s as far away from danger as he could possibly be.

“David…” Hal brings a hand to Snake’s cheek, stroking with his thumb and looking thoughtfully into his eyes. “You worry far too much about me, and far too little about yourself.”

Pliskin looks up to him, eyes shining mysteriously. After a pause he sighs, wrapping strong arms around Hal’s thin torso. “But you’re worth worrying about.”

“So are you, David.” Hal replied softly, basking in Snake’s affection. Snake has always been better with actions than words, and over time Hal’s learned to read the language. Which is why his heart flutters ever so lightly with each gesture, including when David leans his head into Hal’s hand on his cheek, grumbling quietly in protest. “M’not..” He pouts.

“You _are,_ ” Hal chuckles, cupping each side of Pliksin’s grumpy face and squishing. David chortles, broken out of his brood while making little noises of rebuttal. “You are worth worrying about, and that’s that.”

“Fine, fine, heh. Whatever you say.” David rolls his eyes endearingly, seemingly admitting defeat. He looks back up as Hal speaks again.

“Do you know why?” The engineer asks, his voice dropping down in tone, becoming quiet and intimate.

In response, David moves closer, almost feeling the faintest touch of warmth from Hal’s face. “Why..?” He asks faintly, eyes lowered.

* * *

“Because I love you,” is Hal’s answer. And it sends a pleasurable shiver up David’s spine so intense he thinks he might jump out of his body.

“I love you too.” Pliskin says gently, without missing more than a beat.

This time, their lips meet in the middle, languid, warm, and beautifully calm.


End file.
